Текст книги "Twisted Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Forbidden. What did Drake mean when he said that he was a sucker for the forbidden?

Did he mean me? Because I’m pretty sure I don’t have a barbed-wire fence surrounding me. I mean, sure, he’s a close friend of all my brothers—probably Trent’s closest friend—but that isn’t a reason to be forbidden. We’re not freakin’ teenagers.

I can make out with whoever I want.

Not that I actually want to make out with Drake. I mean, he renders me almost catatonic before he makes his move, so I don’t actually have a choice about it. I just have to go with the flow. Like Jell-O.

Jesus. Now I’m putting sugar and Drake in the same thought train. I need to solve this murder, and soon if I want to retain any sanity. I’d really like to go back to unequivocally hating the man. It made my life much easier than what it is right now.

Because as nice as the random kissing thing is, he’s still an asshole.

An asshole who brings me cupcakes, granted, but so are my brothers.

“Brody just called,” Dad says as soon as I walk into the kitchen. “Daniel’s funeral is tomorrow.”

“Oh, it’s a happy week in Holly Woods,” I mumble, grabbing a mug down from the cupboard and putting it in the coffee machine. “Same place as Lena’s?”

“Yes. And he said to call him when you wake up.”

“Got it.” I set my phone on the counter, dial his number, and put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“How’s my favorite brother?”

“How’s my least favorite sister?” he retorts.

“I’m your only sister, idiota.”

“Unfortunately,” he drawls, the sound of a car door closing echoing down the line. “You called just at the right time. I just got to the station.”

“Why did I need to call?”

“Dad told you about the funeral?”

“Yes. What’s up?”

“We think Lena might have been divorced from Dr. Gentry after all.”

I meet Dad’s eyes across the room, and he raises his eyebrow. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming down.” I hang up and slide my full coffee cup to Dad along with a travel mug and a sweet smile.

He shakes his head but uncaps the travel mug anyway, and I kiss his cheek as I run out of the kitchen and to the stairs.

I take them two at a time, the sound of my bare feet slapping against the bare wood sharp. Nonna opens her bedroom door just as I close mine, and I breathe a sigh of relief. No one approaches her before she’s had her coffee on a morning. It’s akin to approaching a hungry lioness and twerking.

How could Lena have been divorced?

I quickly shake the question out of my mind, lest I end up standing in the middle of the room and mulling over possible ideas instead of getting dressed and going to find out the real explanation. I dress as fast as I just ran up the stairs and apply the bare minimum of makeup. Reasoning that I’m going to the police station and don’t need my gun attached to me, I slip it into my purse and pull out my lace-up, military-style, heeled boots and tuck the bottoms of my jeans in.

Satisfied that I look halfway human, I brush my hair on the way out of the door.

“You can go home tonight! Your mom told me about Nonna’s grillin’.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I kiss his cheek and grab the travel cup full of my coffee. “I’ll get my things later.”

“I’ll be here,” he replies, waving as I close the door behind me.

I slide into my new car and set my purse on the passenger’s side, putting the travel cup in the center console in the cup holder. After a sip though. I need at least a tiny bit of caffeine running through my veins before I can be trusted with something as powerful as a damn car.

Unfortunately, in the car, my brain whirrs back to the fact that Lena could have been divorced. This case just keeps getting more and more fucked up. I could understand it in a city, maybe, where everyone is anonymous. You can hide anything in cities as long as you leave it there.

I know. I have plenty of secrets left in a big city.

But in small towns?

The shit you bring to a place like Holly Woods stays in Holly Woods. Small towns are a dangerous place to have secrets, mostly because the concept doesn’t exist. You can’t have secrets in a place where everyone knows everyone and everything about everyone is known. By everyone.

So how in the hell did she keep this secret?

I pull into the parking lot of the HWPD building and push the door open. Charlotte smiles at me as soon as I walk in, and I lean against the reception counter.

“Can you tell Brody I’m here?”

“Sure thing.” She picks her phone up and presses two numbers. “Detective Bond? Noelle’s here.” She looks at me and puts it back down. “He’ll be out in a few seconds.”

“Thank you. Has Nonna been in here causing more problems?”

Charlotte’s dark eyes glitter. “Not since Trent pulled her out of here.”

“Great. Can you ban her from the building, or…?”

She giggles. “I don’t have that power. I just answer the phones.”

“And tell us all what to do,” Brody offers, opening the door and stepping into the reception. He smiles at Charlotte.

She returns it, pink coloring her cheeks, and I fight the urge to raise my eyebrows in interest.

My brother looks at me and says, “Well?”

“Coming, coming. See you later, Charlotte.” I skip through the door, Brody sweeping past me as soon as he’s closed the door.

I’ve never much thought about my baby brother as a man, but seeing him now, confident and strong and leading me through the police station, I see he is. He’s not the shy, gangly teen I remember. He’s a muscular, self-assured gentleman. Which means I can tease the hell out of him.

“Well now, Detective Bond, I do say that Miss Charlotte is rather sweet on you.”

Brody looks at me flatly as he closes his office door. “Sure she is. That’s why she can’t say a word to me.”

I grin and sit down. “Brother dearest, that’s exactly why she can’t say a word to you.”

“We’re not here to discuss my private life.” He coughs and sits down. “You’re here to find out about Lena.”

“I am. But a little sibling teasing never went amiss.”

“You’re testin’ my patience real good, Noelle.”

“Aw, Brodes. C’mon. You know I’m your fave.”

“Lena got divorced,” he says, his eyes, which are the exact shade of mine, hitting me hard. “We have the documents.”

I stare at him flatly. Documents? How? There shouldn’t be documents. There was never a divorce.

“There was,” Brody argues. “You said your thoughts out loud.”

“Oh.” I should get a handle on that. I’ll be in trouble a whole lot if that keeps happening. “Well? Tell me about these documents.”

“We spoke to Dr. Gentry this morning. He’s as shocked as we are.”

“Wait—you’re saying the man didn’t know he was divorced?” But I know that. He was sure they were together. In fact, he was entirely adamant he didn’t want to divorce her.

“Either that or he’s a real good liar.” Brody sighs and sits back. “He admitted that divorce was something they’d both considered. They went to lawyers, split their assets fifty-fifty for a clean and easy split, and the papers were sent to Dr. Gentry. He signed them, but he never gave them to Lena.”

Why would you go through all of that to just not hand your wife the papers? All of that time and money?

“He still hoped she’d come back,” I say softly. “He never wanted to say goodbye to their marriage. So, how did she get the papers?”

“She found them and stole them. The dates on record are not long after the original file. It really was an easy one.”

“How did he not know?”

“She intercepted all the mail. It was summer vacation and Lena stayed with them for a few weeks to be there for their daughter.”

I look out the window. The police station is on the opposite side of the park to my office, but the view is much the same as mine. The play area, the dog walkers, the trees, the flowers, the water fountain in the center of it all. The familiar sight brings comfort to me.

Swallowing, I look at my baby brother. “Who was she, Brodes?” It comes out a whisper.

He pats the hand I have on his desk and looks at me with sympathy in his eyes. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

I’d give just about anything right now to clear out my savings account, fly off to some Caribbean island, and hire a cabana boy to fan me and bring me fruity cocktails.

The twists and turns in this case are getting to be too much—and so are the emotions. Telling Ryan Perkins that his wife was actually his wife wasn’t the easiest conversation I’ve ever had. In fact, it was downright fucking hell. Pulling out the divorce papers not even a week after I’d shown him the marriage certificate shocked him. It’s a wonder the man isn’t entirely screwed in the head after all of this.

It makes me wonder who else knew about all of this. The secret marriage, the secret divorce, the marriage to Ryan.

It really sucks when the person who’d know it all is dead.

Daniel is my obvious choice. There has to be some kind of record about this somewhere.

I lean back in my seat and tap my pen against my lips. I’ve written everything down for what seems like the fiftieth time, but I’m not getting anywhere. Despite Drake’s assurance that my working with the HWPD would give me access to some files, he hasn’t shown me a thing, and I barely trust him enough to give me the information I need. I wouldn’t put it past him to omit any information he didn’t deem necessary for me to know.

Like if anything turned up in Lena’s or Daniel’s apartments.

I dismiss the thought as quickly as it popped up. No, that’s silly. I can’t break into their apartments. Just because I’m no longer required to uphold the law doesn’t mean I want to break it.

Do I?

“Agh!” I flop forward and drop my forehead to my desk. Maybe I have to break the law to uphold it.

It can work that way, right?

It’s not like I’d be taking anything. I’d just sneak in, have a little snoop, and slip back out. Easy peasy. I’d barely be five minutes.

But Lena shared her apartment with Ryan. Which would mean I’d have to get there when he wouldn’t be there.

Dammit.

Wait.

He just told me that he’s spending the night in Austin for business. I’m sure his business is inside Penny’s vagina, but whatever works for him right now works for me.

I pick my phone up. “Dean, I need a favor.”

“What is it, Miss Noelle?”

“I need you to tail Ryan Perkins.”

“What for?”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s going to Austin. You’re still working that infidelity case right?”

“Yes,” he replies slowly. “And that’s all I’m working.”

“I’ll pay you overtime. And won’t bug you for cupcakes for a week.”

A moment of silence. Then, “You got it. What am I tailing him for?”

“Just watch him. Call me as soon as he looks like he’s coming back to Holly Woods, okay?”

“Okay… Miss Noelle, what are you up to?”

“My job.” I hang up and dial Bekah’s extension.

“What’s up, buttercup?” she answers cheerily.

“What are you doing right now?”

“I should be working, but I’m eating Twizzlers.”

I roll my eyes. Of course she is. “Wanna go do some investigating in places we probably shouldn’t?”

“So, breaking and entering.”

“You said that, not me.”

“Whatever. Where are we investigating?”

“Lena’s and Daniel’s apartments.”

There’s a scuffle and a bang. “Let’s go!”

“This is insane,” Bekah whispers in the elevator. “If we caught, we’re screwed.”

“Nah. I’ll get us out of it.”

“Having three family members in the police force does not give you a free pass to break the law,” she mutters grumpily.

“Then go back to the office and I’ll do this myself,” I hiss.

“Are you kiddin’? Someone has to have your back, and as your best friend, this asinine task falls to me.” She sighs and pushes her bangs from her eyes. “Let’s go snoop. Investigate,” she says quickly when I glare at her. “Investigate.”

The doors open, and I shake my head, walking out into the hallway. Lena and Ryan’s apartment is 3B, so I straighten and walk toward the door like I’m supposed to be here. Then I pause.

I didn’t actually consider how we get in.

Bek stops at my side and whistles low. “How do we get in?”

“Shut up.”

“It might be unlocked,” she says. “After all, this is Holly Woods. Who locks their doors?”

“Me.”

“But you’re like a dead body magnet and your house has been broken into. I’d whoop your ass if you didn’t. Lena and Ryan, however…” She leans forward and pushes the handle down.

Sure as hell, the door opens.

“Oh, yes!” I whisper, excitedly grabbing her arm. “We’re not breaking in!”

“We’re not supposed to be here,” she reminds me as we walk in. “You of all people should know it’s still breaking and entering.”

“But the door was open. I’ll argue technicalities.” I sniff and tuck some hair behind my ear.

Looking around the apartment, I take a deep breath. It’s cozy. That’s about all I have to say. There’s nothing really stand-out about it. It just looks like…an apartment. There’s a decent-sized TV, a games console and games. There’s a bright afghan slung over one cream armchair, and pictures of Ryan and Lena adorn the walls and counters and windowsills.

If I didn’t know she was a compulsive liar, I’d say these two really loved each other.

“What are we looking for?” Bek asks, closing the door behind us.

“Good question,” I mumble. “Uh, anything that looks like it could solve this case.”

“Nothing too out-there, then.”

Damn her sarcasm. “Just keep an eye on the door. I’ll look.”

I walk into the kitchen and open the drawers, hoping to find some documents or something. Doesn’t everyone have a kitchen drawer jammed with bills and bank statements and invoices? I thought that was, like, a thing.

Not the Perkinses, anyway. Either they’re real organized or I’m super lazy.

The kitchen turns nothing up except for a fridge covered in pictures attached by various magnets. I pause and look through them. Lena and Ryan, Lena and her family, Lena and Penny and Mallory. Lena at the front of her store on the day it opened. I tilt my head to the side and focus on the calendar on the wall next to the fridge. Every Saturday is crossed out on Lena’s column. The day she was never in the store.

That’s when she went to Houston to see Melly.

What did she tell everyone when she went?

“Hey, Bek?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you call Mallory Chandler? I want to know what she knows.”

“You want me to tell her to come see you at the office?”

“Yes. Please.” I proceed to the bedroom. This is more than a little awkward, and I make sure to keep my attention away from the bed.

Because. Ew.

I slowly open the drawers on the nightstands. There’s nothing except the usual suspects. Chap Stick, condoms, pills. Nothing in the drawer on the other side, either. The bathroom also comes up empty, so the office opposite the bedroom is my last hope for something.

“Someone’s here!” Bek hisses, grabbing me from behind.

I clamp my hand over my mouth and look around. “Closet!” I whisper, opening the door.

We both step in and, after I close the door, crouch down. A high heel pokes me in the ass and a dress almost smothers me, but I manage to pull my phone out of my pants pocket and look at it. No missed calls from Dean.

That means it isn’t Ryan. So who’s here?

Drawers open and close somewhere in the apartment, and Bek shuffles closer when it becomes evident that whoever’s here is looking for something just like we were. Which means there’s something here to find.

If only, like this person, I knew what it was.

“Fuck it!” Penny.

Bek grips me tight and opens her mouth. I shake my head, clinging tight to the closet door handle. God bless walk-ins.

“Where is it?!” Penny exclaims, more drawers opening and closing. There’s silence for a second, then more drawers open in the bedroom. Right in front of us.

I shake my head again at Bek. Her hands are trembling, but I squeeze one tight and she holds her breath. Dammit—what was I thinking bringing her with me?

That’s right. I wasn’t.

A phone rings, and Penny answers with, “I can’t find it!”

Bek and I share a look.

“No, Ry! I’ve looked everywhere, just like you said you did. The policy isn’t here… I’ve already checked the store. You know that… No, Mallory said she didn’t know anything about it… Okay… Sure. I’ll drive in now… See you soon.”

The policy.

The sound of footsteps echoes through the apartment, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. We wait for an excruciatingly long minute before we get out of the closet and straighten up.

“The policy?” Bek asks, frowning.

“The life insurance policy,” I reply, putting my hands on my hips and looking around.

“Why would they want that? They being Ryan, too.”

“Let’s go,” I say, not wanting to be here any longer. God knows who else could be after that. When we’re in the elevator, I look at my best friend. “Life insurance policies are generally made out to your spouse. Right?”

“Right.”

“Ryan obviously knows that Lena was in contact with an insurance company about it. It made sense because of the debt she was in with her store—maybe she was paranoid about someone killing her.”

“They did.”

“Well, yeah. But that wasn’t connected. Anyway…” We get into her car. “What if Ryan knew about the policy but didn’t know anything about it? Now that she’s dead, he’s thinking he has the store, all her assets—which don’t seem to be many—and her insurance payout.”

“Except there’s no policy.”

“Except there is. It just doesn’t have his name on it.” I shift in my seat. “When did you say Mallory was coming in to see me?”

“I didn’t. But she should be there already.”

“Then put your foot down, Bek!”

She does. We make it across town, breaking several speeding limits in the process, and when I walk into my building, Mallory is sitting in the lobby with Grecia, talking about the newest stock inventory and the cutest little black lace dress Grecia would love.

“Mallory?” I interrupt their conversation. “Do you want a coffee or anything?”

“I’m fine,” she says hesitantly, swallowing. “What’s up?”

“Let’s go to my office.” I lead her upstairs and shut the door behind us. “Take a seat.” I nod toward my tub chairs.

Mallory sweeps her hair over one shoulder, her eyes warily focused on me. “What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Lena’s past?”

I can’t help but think we could be much closer to solving this case if Mallory had just told me everything in the first place—or even told the police. It’s not like she hid a tiny bit of information, either. She hid something huge. Massive and explosive kind of huge.

Change-the-course-of-this-investigation kind of huge.

I look at my feet, which are propped up on my coffee table, and wiggle my painted toes. Well, I say painted. They’re closer to chipped than painted. Which reminds me that I have to reschedule my hair appointment for next week since I forgot about it today.

People getting killed is starting to really piss me off.

At least I managed to get my things from my parents’ house earlier relatively unscathed. And by relatively unscathed, I mean I only heard my mom and my nonna yell three times and Nonna promised me she has me a date to take me to church on Sunday.

If there’s anything worse than her dinner dates, it’s her church dates. As long as he doesn’t suggest a quickie in the back room like the last one did, I might leave with some semblance of sanity. It’s still a long shot, but I’ll take it.

Alison slumps onto the sofa next to me and hands me a cocktail glass. I pat her leg, thankful my brother picked someone awesome to marry. And by awesome, I mean someone who will make me margaritas and watch trashy TV with me just because it gets her away from her hellions. Hellions that include my brother.

I’m not even paying attention to the show. I’m just staring blankly at the television as I try, still unsuccessfully, to make sense of this case.

“You need a break,” Alison announces.

“Yep. But it’s out of the question until this is done. You know that.”

“I know. We’re still going for a girls’ weekend when it’s done.”

A whole weekend away from Holly Woods and Drake Nash? Sign me up. “I’m in.”

“Of course you’re in. It’s nonnegotiable. I’d take you even if you fought.” She grins.

Her smile is infectious, and I find my own lips curving up. “If you could outfight me, you would, at least. But props for your enthusiasm.”

“I’d give it a damn good try,” she muses, sipping on her cocktail. “Or I’d just get Trent to do it.”

“Nah. He’s too afraid to fight me ever since I was sixteen and almost broke his arm.” I giggle when she widens her eyes at me. “Of course he didn’t tell you.”

“What—how?”

“He was annoyin’ me. Something about me dating, I think. Anyway, I snapped and put him in an arm lock until he squealed. It was fun. He’d just graduated from the police academy, top of his class, and his little sister had just bested him.” Another giggle escapes, and I sip my drink.

“No wonder he never told me!” Alison breaks into laughter. “Oh my. He’s not gonna live that one down.”

I grin and get up as there’s a knock at my door. “Please don’t. He threatens to revoke my gun permits if I bring any of that up.” I open the door.

“Any of what?” Drake’s voice cuts through my amusement.

I turn, swallowing. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Hello to you, too. Can I come in?”

“Do you have to?”

“Not really. We can have this conversation standing here, but unless you want the whole block to know what I’m about to tell you…”

“Is it work stuff?”

His eyes darken with heat. “I’m not here for a booty call.”

Alison coughs from the front room and stands up. “I should probably be getting back now. And not telling my husband that I’m leaving his sister alone with the guy he answers to every day,” she adds on a mumble, making me narrow my eyes at her. She kisses my cheek. “There’s still half a pitcher in the kitchen. Maybe put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Bye, Drake.”

“Bye, Alison,” he says, a confused look on his face as she gets into her car. When my sister-in-law has pulled away from my house and disappeared around the corner, Drake turns back to me. “Well? Am I allowed in?”

“Are you sure you’re not here for a booty call?”

“Noelle.”

I sigh and open the door fully. “Come on, then.”

He stalks past me and into the front room, where he proceeds to sit down on the sofa. In my space. Where I was just sitting. I take a deep breath and close the door. Then I grab my half-full glass from the coffee table. I drink it in one go, ignoring Drake’s chuckle as I storm past and refill it in the kitchen.

“That much of a bad day, huh?” he asks, his eyes on my glass.

“And it just got better!” I inject every ounce of sarcasm my body is capable of into those five words.

“It’s always thrillin’ to know I brighten your day, cupcake.”

“Oh, you do. You’re like my own personal solar eclipse.”

His lips pull up into a smirk, his eyes dancing with laughter. “You wound me.”

“My gun is next to me,” I warn him. “Don’t make me give in to temptation.”

He laughs, his head going back onto the cushions of the sofa. I try to ignore the flutters in my stomach at the sound and curl up on the corner of the couch. I bring my glass to my lips and sip demurely, wanting to chug the whole thing down instead.

“Keeping Up With the Kardashians, huh?”

I look from the TV to Drake and back to the TV again. “Blame Alison. I only watch E! for Total Divas.”

“Total Divas? That’s that WWE thing, right?”

“The reality show? Yeah.”

Drake nods. “Nikki has a real nice ass.”

“Really? You’re here to discuss the anatomy of divas, huh?” I raise my eyebrows.

Another laugh. Note to self: Margaritas and Drake’s laughter do not go well together. Or they go very well. It depends how you like your butterflies in your tummy. I happen to not like them. At all. In the slightest. Especially if they involve him.

“No, not at all.” He smiles and shifts so he’s facing me. “We found out something real interestin’ today.”

I look at him expectantly, and when he doesn’t reply, I say, “What was it?”

“Wondered how long you’d wait,” he teases. “We finally got a look at Lena’s will. Ryan may have been her husband, but he isn’t the owner of the store.”

What? “Who is?”

“Who was is what you should be asking.”

“Daniel?” I gasp, leaning forward and almost spilling my drink. I switch hands and lick the liquid off the back of my hand as Drake continues.

“Got it in one. Now, we’re trying to figure out the legalities. Her will states that, in the event of Daniel’s death, the store goes to her parents. It should be simple, but Daniel’s will states that everything he owns at the time of death goes to his parents, with the exception of his motorcycle, which belongs to Lena.”

“So…Lena’s parents could have his bike, and his parents could have her store?” When Drake nods, I wrinkle my nose. “What sense does that make?”

“It doesn’t. Perhaps that was the point. Maybe their final wishes were supposed to make as much sense as their deaths.”

“They couldn’t have planned these,” I point out, setting my almost-empty glass down. “How could they have thought for a second they’d be brutally murdered? And by the same person? It’s illogical, Drake. There has to be something bigger at play here than just two best friends screwing around. You don’t fuck around with your will.”

“I know that. You know that. But these wills are three years old. The only thing that makes sense is that Lena stipulates that her daughter owns twenty-five percent of the store, with Dr. Gentry handling it on her behalf until she turns twenty-one and can either sell or step into the business herself.”

Another nail in the screwed-up coffin that is Lena Perkins’s legacy.

“When were both wills written?”

“Three years ago, like I said.”

“What date?” I run my thumb across my bottom lip, ignoring the way Drake’s eyes flick there. “Was it the same date?”

“Let me find out.” He pulls his phone out. With his eyes still on my mouth, he dials a number and then holds the device to his ear. “Charlotte. Yeah… Check the dates on Lena and Daniel’s wills… Uh huh… Interesting. Thank you.” He puts the phone on the table and looks at me. “May twenty-seventh. The same day. Signed by the same lawyer.”

“They wrote them together.” My gaze drifts away and falls on the credits of the Kardashians. “Holy shit. Drake,” I grab his arm. “Is there a history of mental illness with Daniel? Do you know?”

“No idea. Why?”

“I didn’t see anything in the files Marsh gave me, but what if the wills were the result of a suicide pact?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but I clamp my hand over his mouth to stop him.

“It’s not unrealistic. They’ve been together their whole lives. We already know Lena suffered postpartum depression. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that Daniel suffered depression too and they decided this!”

Drake narrows his eyes. “You sound way too excited about this possibility.”

“Cop problems,” I mutter. Or in this case, ex-cop problems. Running my top teeth over my bottom lip, I suck the soft, tender flesh into my mouth and then release it slowly. The idea holds merit. It’s entirely realistic. “I need to go to the office, check on Daniel’s medical records.”

I move to get up, but Drake grabs my arm and tugs me back down. I squeak when my butt hits the sofa. He doesn’t release my arm when I give it a good shake, and I narrow my eyes.

“You’ve been drinking. You ain’t goin’ anywhere until you’ve slept it off.”

“I’m fine. I’ve only had three glasses.”

“Three glasses too many to be driving.”

“What would you rather I do? Sit here like a damn lemon while the answer to one of our questions is sitting in my freakin’ office?” I sigh when he finally releases my arm and run my fingers through my hair. “It’s only a few blocks. You could even drive me.”

“Noelle.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Noelle.”

I graze my teeth over my lower lip again. “Come on, Drake. Don’t you want to know?”

“Noelle!”

“What?” I finally focus on him and his blazingly hot gaze.

“For the love of God, shut the fuck up.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a kiss. Instead of speaking, I gasp, the ferociousness of his kiss reawakening the butterflies in my stomach and sending a thousand different types of shivers cascading through my body.

Drake’s fingers curl around the back of my neck, and mine curl around his, because goddammit all, I need something to hold on to if he’s gonna unleash his magic mouth on me right now. There’s no way, not even sitting down, that I can cope with the wonders of this man’s kissing ability without holding on to him like he’s my anchor to the here and now.

And that’s what he is. When he kisses me this way, deeply and deliciously and fervently, desperately and wonderfully and harshly, the touch of his fingers is the anchor I need to stop myself from flying away with the ecstasy of his mouth on mine.

His teeth graze my lower lip as he lightly tugs on it, and I gasp again, the opening of my mouth providing him with exactly what he needs. His tongue collides with mine and our kiss deepens and he pushes me back and I feel him everywhere.

Like a freezing winter breeze, Drake Nash swirls around me, the very touch of him crawling across my skin so closely and chillingly that it elicits goose bumps on every bare inch of me. And every inch that’s covered, too.

His mouth—it’s sweet and forceful. I’m entirely helpless to the assault of his kiss. And even if I could fight this, I don’t think I would. His fingers are twining in my hair, and mine are in his, and his strong, powerful body covering mine has my heart beating triple time and my legs twitching with the desire to wrap themselves around his waist.

God. I want this man close to me. Over my clothes. Under my clothes. Everywhere. Just everywhere.

I want Drake Nash everywhere on me.

He stops, his mouth hovering above mine, his breath mingling with mine in the barely there gap between our lips.

“You stopped,” I breathe, feeling more out of control than I have in a long time. “Why did you stop?”

“I really fucking hate you,” he rasps.

“I really fucking hate you,” I reply, not brave enough to open my eyes and look into his.

“Good. Then that makes this a whole lot damn easier.” He wraps an arm around my back and tugs me down flat on the sofa, moving with me and touching his mouth to mine once more.

Now, his touch is hotter. His fingers move across my back, sliding under my shirt. My skin sears at the touch of his fingertips against me, and I arch my back, pushing my body against his, begging for him to stop yet pleading for more as he steals my breath with every relentless kiss.